Something worthwhile
by the lowkey author
Summary: Twenty years after going through the portal Ford ends up in ninteenseventy-something where he meets a 17 year old version of his twin brother. A young Stanley x old Stanford kind of fanfic - Gravity past AU, Stancest.
1. Holy Fuck

**Hi everyone! So, a while back I came across a Young Stanly x Old Stanford fanfic on AO3 called The Boxer, and I just fell in love with the AU concept (that doesn't seem to have a name, so I am gonna call it "Gravity past AU" until someone corrects me). I couldn't find any additional fanfics of the same kind – which made me sad – so I decided to write my own. Haven't decided if this will be a one-shot or multichapter yet, but I guess that depends on how well it is recived by you guys 3**

 **But let's get started shall we!**

 **Oh, and it is rated T for swearing and shit** (✿◠‿◠)

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The crocked headlights had come out of nowhere; but to be fair, so had he. The interdimensional wormhole had spit the rugged form of Stanford Pines out in the middle of a dark street. Running for his life (as he usually did nowadays), priorities lay elsewhere than looking before crossing the road. For a fraction of second the blinding light and screeching of tires was his whole world. (Ironic how the source of his world was about to kill him.) The vehicle swirled to the left and the dimension-traveller threw himself to the right.

Ford was quick back up on his feet, ready to fight whatever came his way (twenty years of fleeing the horrors of the nightmare realm had given him that much at least). The door on the driver's side flung open and the scientist reached inside his coat for the pet project prototype gun. It was yet to be tested, but this was as good a time as any.

"Holy fuck! Are you alright?" Every molecule in Ford's body froze.

 _It couldn't be…_

"What the hell were you doing in the middle of the road!? Don't you know the road is for cars?" the six-fingered hand graced the weapon's metal casing, unable to grasp it. His hands and heart fell. If he didn't know better, he would have thought this was a cruel and sadistic joke conducted by his former muse.

"Hey! Old man! Are you deaf or something?" the driver made a move to step closer, but Ford beat him to it. In two long strides he had closed the gap between them, and forcefully slammed the younger man's back against the side of the car. Drawing a cry of pain and surprise from the boy.

"Hey! What giv…" the raucous voice ceased when Ford took hold of his white t-shirt and pressed a muscular forearm against the teenager's throat, cutting off his air supply. Fuming with anger and adrenaline he held tight to the struggling boy. Taking in every familiar feature, desperately searching for a flaw that would prove his suspicions false.

With the explosivity of a boxer the object of observation pushed Ford away, with such force that it almost caused the older man to fall over.

Ford straightened himself up and looked at the impossibility ahead of him.

 _It just couldn't be!_

The boy held his arms raised in a defensive stance and kept his chestnut-brown eyes firmly on his attacker. The same eyes that once had looked upon Stanford with warmth and love were now hard as stone. They didn't recognize him, and why would they? He hardly resembled his teenage self anymore, in neither appearance nor demeanor.

An ear shattering roar interrupted their starring contest and Ford suddenly remembered why he had been running in the first place. Darkness - even more so than the night already provided – surrounded them and Ford grabbed his gun. It wouldn't do much good against the creature, but it was all he had. The fit for fight teen rapidly turned his head in all direction, searching for the source of the additional darkness.

"Wha… what's going on?" the rough voice cracked in an adolescent manner. "Is there a solar eclipse or som'thing?"

"Lunar eclipse", Ford had slowly back up so he too stood with his back to the soft top convertible.

"What?"

"It is night, so if anything it would be a Lunar eclipse" the scientist explain and earned a groan from the young man beside him.

"Shut your yaps Poinde…" unfinished the sentence died out, leaving two identical hearts broken all over again.

Another roar filled the darkness and from the corner of his eye Ford could see an amorphous limb aiming straight for his head. Acting on impulse he dodged and rolled out of reach, remembering a second too late that he wasn't the only one in the monster's way. Standing his ground in a crouch like pose he turned just in time to see the slim-covered tentacle wrap itself around the spitting image of his younger self. The seventeen years old version of his twin brother Stanley.

With terror in his eyes Stanford watch the Lovecraftian monster slowly wrapping it's disgusting limbs around his brother (perhaps the brother to an alternative version of himself but minutiae be damned still his brother!) and the horrified howl that escaped Stan's lips was all the motivation the involuntary adventurer needed.

He shot up from where he stood and aimed his - all but powerful - weapon at the pitch-black darkness. Firing off five consecutive shoots at what he hoped was one of the creature's many heads. One of them must have hit something vital as the visible limbs twitched in pain and dropped it's struggling catch. The catch – Stanley – landed hard on the asphalt, scraping his hands and knees. With a quickness Ford didn't think the bulky body possessed, he scrambled onto his feet; a wild look in his eyes.

Before he had time to react his saviour grabbed him hard by the shoulder and pushed him in the direction of the passenger's side of the car.

"Get in!" he growled and placed himself in the driver's seat. For half a second the boy stood dumbfounded by the command.

"Wait no what… Hey! Nobody drives the Stanley-mobile but me!" he yelled in a tone of voice that suggested that he would rather have them both killed by a vicious tentacle monster, than let anyone drive his precious piece of junk.

"NOW!" Stanford roared, putting named monster to shame and making his idiot brother shrink to a fifth of his blown-up size. Without another word Stan swiftly got into the car and cringed as the older mutilate the gearbox putting the pedal to the medal.

The 65' El Diablo rocketed off. Rubber burning from friction and the engine roaring. It had been a while since the space voyager had driven a vehicle as primitive as an earthly car, and while fleeing from a murderous beast might not have been the best time to re-learn it; even if Stanford Pines did work best under pressure.

Once again they were wrapped in darkness, the headlights doing nothing to illuminate their path.

"What the flying fuck is going on?" Stanley demanded to know, holding on to his seat for dear life. "And who the hell are _you_?" the words stung in the older man's heart. Stanford didn't answer, simply shoved his gun in the young man's hands, a gesture that said all he needed to know. With an audible gulp he looked from the foreign object in his hands, to Ford, to the monster chasing them, then back to the weapon with a determined look in his eyes.

He wasn't going to screw this up.

* * *

 **Can I… can I end it there? Cuz I will. Do-don't kill me, please…** **(°** **°)'**

 **Thank you so (so so) much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, even if I ended it on a cliff-hanger (sorry not sorry). Reviews would be absolutely amazing and I will most likley make this a multichapter (don't quote me on that) so keep an eye out for the next chapter.**

 **See ya dudes** **(*^3^)/~**


	2. Bless you

**Aww** **(=^·^=)** **Thank you so much for the favs and fows and reviews you guys, it means a lot!**

 **Here is chapter two – Enjoy!**

* * *

The gun lay smoking and slightly aglow on the floor of the passenger's seat; the intense heat slowly eating away at the rug, making the whole car smell like dirty socks on fire. Light was slowly returning to the world as the sun made it's way up over the horizon. Mist and heavy clouds covered most of the sky like a grey blanket, but the unimpressive amount of sunshine that broke through was the most beautiful thing Stanley had ever seen.

"We're alive", he exclaimed in a husky voice, unintentionally jerking the older man beside him from his slumber. The scientist rubbed the drowsiness from underneath his glasses and made an unintelligent noise to acknowledge his brother's words.

They had made it, barely, but still alive and in one piece. Despite Stanford's poor driving skills and Stanley's unfamiliarity with weapons they had managed to escape the multilimbed outer-dimensional monster. Slightly worried about the residents of the area where they had finally managed to lose their potential death, the thought of his actual whereabouts struck Ford.

The car was parked in a make-do gravel parking lot, facing an abandon beach and a vast ocean. The traveller didn't recognize the area, but it couldn't be too far from New Jersey and Glass Shard Beach – considering who was sitting in the car with him.

He cleared his throat and glanced over at the younger boy. He had a wide grin on his zit infested face, and the usually back slicked hair was as unruly and on-end as Ford's after the events of last night.

"I can't believe we're alive!" he laughed and flung his arms open, almost hitting the other man in the face. "I don't know what that was last night and I'm not really sure what happen but woaw! Just, Wo-Aw!" he ran a shaking hand through his hair, forcing it into a back slick. The mahogany locks immediately bouncing back to unruliness.

"Ever read H.P. Lovecraft?" Ford asked, folding his hands in his lap and eyes set on the blurry horizon. Well aware that his brother wouldn't touch a book with a ten feet pole.

"Like the horror writer? Yeah sure, why?" the look of utter disbelief he recived made the teenager flung his arms open once again. "What? I have! Well, skimmed through them at least. Ya know, looking at the pictures and what not", he folded his arms and turned away, a grumpy look on his face. A second later his posture loosened and he turned back. "Wait, was that what that thing was last night? Some sort of sci-fi horror mumbo jumbo?"

"I would probably not use does exact words, but yes, pretty much", the truth was that Howard Lovecraft had been subjected to interdimensional travel, and much like Ford ended up in the nightmare realm. Fortunately for Mr Lovecraft the writer had found his way back home sooner than the scientist, who was still searching for it. But that also meant that the monsters and horrors Lovecraft wrote about did indeed exist – even if it was on an entirely different plan of existence.

"So that thing was like the Goat of the woods, evil cloud, lots of kids, entity, thing?" Stanley said, stringing together the few words he could remember from the picture descriptions.

"The Shub-Niggurath…" Ford filled in, recalling the creature his brother tried to describe. The boy's face lit up with delight from being right. "No." The smile turned into an annoyed frown.

"What we encountered last night was a Shoggoth"

"Bless you" the older man raised an eyebrow at the younger, only to be met with a mischievous grin. Ford's heart ached with the reminder of just how light-hearted and goofy his twin used to be, very much unlike the last time he had seen him.

"A Shoggoth" he repeated, careful not to let his emotions show, "dumb but incredibly dangerous"

"Ha! Sound like me!" the boy exclaimed pridefully and poked himself in the chest with his thumb. Ford couldn't help but to chuckle at the display.

"I am sure you're not dumb", he replayed, the smile turning melancholy on his lips.

"Well I'm sure as heck ain't smart. My pa and teachers used to rub that in my face often enough alright."

"Used to?"

"Yeah, ain't gonna hear from them again anytime soon. My pa threw me out a few nights ago", he could might as well have put a knife through Stanford's already scared chest. The older man kicked himself for not realizing sooner at what point of his life (this version of) his brother was at.

Naturally Ford still held a grudge for past events. Things had never been resolved and neither party had tried to heal their broken bond. The bitterness had kept on growing during their years apart and mutated into something more horrendous and unforgivable than it actually was. The betrayal had suffocated the love and twisted the memories. But seeing Stanley now - a mere child, alone with no money and nowhere to go – made every lie and excuse Ford had told himself to justify his brothers fate feel like a merciless hit to the gut. Before he had registered his actions, strong arms had wrapped themselves around the boy before him, holding him tight.

"I am so sorry", _for letting pa kick you out, for not defending you, for letting that stupid project and that stupid college get between us…_

"Wow! Hands off the goods old man!" startled by the elder's sudden show of affection the boy promptly pushed him away. Ford felt his face go red; embarrassed for having lost his composure. Getting hugged by a complete stranger would make anyone freak out (and no matter what intimacy they had shared in the past - his past) to this Stan he was just that: a stranger.

"I apologize", he said in a thick voice. Not sure where to look he turned his gaze back to the horizon. The sun's ghostly figure slightly taller now.

They sat like that for a while, the awkwardness a fact neither of them wanted to address. Ford took the opportunity to consider his next move. As far as he knew Earth - at this time and age – didn't have much to offer in the fight against Bill. There was always Gravity Falls and the vast amount of abnormal properties that surrounded the town, but without the funding to neither travel nor conduct research that wasn't really an option.

The sudden clonking of the passenger's door opening pulled the scientist from his thoughts. Stan had stepped out of the car, standing with his hands on his hips and admired the cold grey ocean. The broad chest rose and fell as he breathed in the salty air.

Without warning he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the seat, revealing a black and bruised torso. He stretched his back, rolled his shoulders and proceeded with bending forward in an attempt to touch the ground (getting nowhere near it). When he was right side up again he took a knee and started to untie his shoelaces.

Ford – very much aware of the redness of his cheeks – cleared his throat to get the younger man's attention. Stan looked up, not ceasing the process to get undressed.

"What are you doing?"

"Well" he said, getting back on his feet and kicked his shoes off. "I don't know about you, but I can still feel the icky-ness of that tentacle thing all over my body. And as I don't see no showers around, I'm gonna go for a swim" he unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down to his skinny ankles. With a rapidity that was going to give him Torticollis, Ford turned his face away; his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Wanna come?"

 _Yes!_

"No", the rational minded researcher had taken a sudden interest in the interior of the car and inspected the seams in the dashboard with utmost care "rather not risk it. If I recall correctly the Shoggoth thrive in water" which was true, even if that wasn't the reason he declined the offer. From the corner of his eye he could see his brother, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, looking back and forth between the crushing waves and the stranger in his car.

"Meh", he shrugged in a nonchalant manner. "Beat the bastard once, why not go a second round. It's been awhile since these guns had some proper competition", he flexed his biceps and wiggled his eyebrows.

"Very well", Ford did his best not to ogle the young man in front of him. Thankfully he didn't have to keep it up for very long, as Stan soon stopped with his display, threw his jeans inside the car and headed for the shoreline. Unaware of the spectacle shielded eyes that shamelessly followed his every step.

* * *

 **I am planning on making it physical at some point, but ya know, all good to them who wait…**

 **Thank you so much for reading, and reviews are still amazing and heart-warming little things that nourish my artistic soul. Stay awesome dudes and keep an eye out for chapter three** **(** **)/**


	3. Was'up

**Once again, thank you so much for the favs and reviews, you guys are the best! 3**

 **And just to clarify, Ford hasn't made it back home through the portal yet. He doesn't know that his brother is working day and night to bring him back and correct his mistake. He has been traveling the multiverse for twenty years and this is just another stop along the way (even if he might be stuck here for a while). Most of you probably had figured that out but ya know, just in case someone was confused :***

* * *

Still at a loss as where to go from here, the traveller decided to go through his inventory. It didn't consist of much, as two decades on the interdimensional road had taught him to get by on the absolute minimum.

His trusted trench-coat was spread open over the gravel and everything in his possession had been carefully placed upon it. None of it especially helpful in his current situation. Not even the tattered leather wallet he had been holding on to for so long held anything of use: a driver's licence for a 28-year-old Stanford Filbrick Pines (which wasn't valid for yet another decade), a vomit-stained IOU signed R. Sanchez, a photograph, and a few betting chips from Lottocron 9. All of it absolutely worthless.

The rest of his belongings - some _M_ eef _M_ erky from the M-dimension, a makeshift tool/first aid-kit, a very much banned infinity-sided die (also from Lottocron 9), an emergency pair of underwear, twelve different kinds of writing instruments and the interdimensional translator device (plus the gun still cooling off in the car) – were all equally worthless.

A heavy sigh escaped his chest. His best bet was to find another wormhole, but they were obnoxiously rare on Earth and without any equipment to track one down it would be a next to impossible venture.

The crunching sound of feet against the gravel made Ford's sharpened instincts react and he quickly turned around ready to fight, just to be met by a soaked and shivering - but otherwise happy looking - Stan.

"Was'up?" the younger man managed through violently clattering teeth, rubbing his goose bump covered arms.

"You are going to give yourself hypothermia" the scientist flatly replied and turned back to his inventory, hoping the other hadn't noticed how he had addressed the clinging and highly see-through underwear rather than the boy's face. Stanley shrugged.

"Least I don't smell like monster-snot from the planet of nightmares no more"

"Nightmare realm", Ford corrected him under his breath.

"You say something?"

"Nothing", Ford answered in a pre-occupied voice, busy re-pocketing his few belongings.

Something icy cold dropped down his neck and nearly made him drop the incredibly dangerous gambling piece. He turned back around to find a half-naked and still dripping wet Stan hovering over him, inspective what was yet to be put away of his inventory.

"You some kind of nerdy full-time sci-fi agent or something?" he ran a raisin-fingered hand through his hair and nodded towards the still on display tool-kit. Not knowing how to reply to that the scientist got back to pocketing his things.

"And what if a was?" he shrugged, trying to sound as if he found the question absurd.

"Not much", the boy answered "as long as it means you don't have to kill me or something I don't care what you are" he dropped the subject and got back to getting dressed.

"It wouldn't have made a lot of sense to save you from the Shoggoth just to have to kill you myself afterwards, now would it?" he rose from the ground, dusted of his trench coat (to no avail as it had been as dirty it could possibly get long before it touched the ground) and put it back on.

" _You_ , saved _me_? Ha, yeah right! You would've been tentacle munch if it hadn't been for me Old man!" Ford rolled his eyes before letting them fall on the overly confident boy in front of him. A car and a small duffel bag, that was all he had in this world; their cheapskate of a father most certainly hadn't packed Stan anything of value as he disowned him and threw him out on the street.

The boy put on – what seemed to be - a clean shirt, zipped the bag shut and threw it in the backseat.

"What are you going to do now?" the words slipped past scientists lips before he could stop them. A younger version of his own chestnut-brown eyes locked with his, clearly not expecting that question from the stranger. Stan slammed the car door shut and leaned his back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Dunno really", he kicked the gravel, "might go treasure hunting or something"

"Treasure hunting?" the critique in Ford's voice made the adrift teenager look up.

"Yeah, I don't know", he laughed apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck, "getting thrown out doesn't really come with instructions ya know".

A six-fingered hand balled itself into a fist as its owner spoke a silent alien curse over their bigot father. In what universe was a 17-year-old boy fit to fend for himself? (Ignoring the unsettling existence and ways of the baby-dimension.) Stanley didn't even have a high school diploma to his name, let alone an education or work experience.

"What about you?" the fuming hatred died at the question.

"What about me?" the man asked, folding his arms behind his back.

"What are you gonna do? Do you have like, a family or sect of nerdy old men to back to or what?" a quick thought of his mother and then Fiddleford crossed his mind, but he pushed them away and shook his head.

"No, I lost my family a long time ago", which wasn't far from the truth. Getting sucked into the portal had cut him off from everything he once held dear. It had left him isolated and dead to the world.

"I'm sorry about that", the sympathy in Stan's voice was genuine and Ford couldn't help but to let the guilt of being the reason his brother had lost _his_ family wash over him once again.

They stood like that for a while, each of them letting the grief and remorse eat away at their hearts. That was, until the sudden sound of a rumbling stomach drowned out the crashing of waves and screaming seagulls. Ford gave the young man a surprised look, that the young man in turn gave to his protesting belly.

"Seems like fighting monsters gives ya a pretty good appetite" he laughed. Ford frowned, he had since long learnt to suppress feelings of hunger but could also feel his energy reserves dwindle.

"How about we go for some breakfast before figuring our lives out? Brilliance doesn't happen on an empty stomach", he grinned and slapped his abdomen. The older man's frown deepened. He couldn't deny that food sounded quite tempting - unable to recall the last meal that hadn't consisted of _M_ eef _M_ erky – but that didn't change the fact that he didn't have any money. Addressing the issue to his most likely penniless twin, said twin only snorted.

"Who said anything about paying? Ever heard of Dine and dash Old man", the morally questionable teen got in his car and started up the engine with a satisfying roar. Stanford shook his head, not namely surprised and in no position to judge.

* * *

 **Aaand they're off!**

 **Don't think I am going to make a habit out of posting a new chapter every day, I have a degree in aesthetics to keep on top of. But thank you so much for reading, you guys are awesome! I know it is a bit slow going, but as a fellow demi-sexual I feel the need to build a relationship before anything juice happens. So stay tuned and keep your eyes open for the next chapter.**

 **Be cool ma dudes 3**


	4. Mazel tov

**The fourth chapter is an acceptable chapter to get on first name basis… right?**

* * *

"So, you've basically seen me naked, had me save your arse from getting ripped to pieces and now I am buying you breakfast. What more does a guy gotta do to learn your name?"

Stanford choked on his coffee, hoping to God that no-one in the diner had heard the highly inappropriately phrased question. He coughed and beat himself forcefully over the chest to rid his windpipe from the intruding liquid.

"I beg your pardon?" he managed in a hoarse voice and looked up at man on the other side of the booth, an ear-to-ear grin plastered on his young face. Ford was well aware of Stan's flirtatious nature, but never been actively subjected to it.

"I'm just saying, after an experience like last night", the shameless youngster made an unnecessary paus and Ford wanted nothing more than to sink through the laminated floor, "we should at least get on first name bases".

"It is _basis_ , and can you stop talking about it as if we 'were up to something' last night?" the scientist growled, his face red as a traffic light.

"What do you mean?", Stan replied innocently, and for a moment Ford believed he had imagined it all, "We _were_ up to something last night! I mean, that thing of yours, it was HUGE…" Ford flung himself half way across the table and grabbed the younger man by his shirt collar, knocking his coffee cup over in the process.

"Alright wise-guy!" he stopped himself as he felt the presence of a third party beside them. The twins looked up to see a waitress dressed in blue standing at the end of their table, one hand holding a pot of coffee and the other drumming agitatedly against her hip.

"Is everything alright over here?" she asked in that whiny voice every female waitress, secretary and phone operator seemed to possess.

"Right as rain Sugar pops", Stan reassured her with a million-dollar smile. He wrung the six-fingered hand from his shirt and pushed Ford back in his seat.

"It is just my Uncle here, he has one heck of a temper in the mornings, but it ain't nuthing I can't handle" he winked at the waitress who didn't seem especially impressed, "Sorry if he scared ya Hun".

Like a cliché he ran his hand through his hair before standing the knocked-over cup up and pushing it towards the female, "you wouldn't mind giving him a refill would ya?" the waitress let out an annoyed sigh and refilled the cup, before walking away.

Stanford, still irritated and embarrassed, glared at the younger man who just flashed him a grin and took a smug sip from the newly poured cup. Immediately regretting the decision and quickly stuffed his mouth full of syrup drenched pancakes.

"That tastes horrible!" he cried, "why would ya drink that?" shoving yet another piece of pancake in his mouth to get rid of the bitter taste.

It was Ford's turn to look smug, as he effortlessly took a long sip of the bitter brew.

 _God, he had missed coffee!_

The multiverse had much to offer, but none of the places the interdimensional traveller had visited so far had had anything even close to blessing that was bitter black coffee. So, he was going to enjoy each and every cup he had the opportunity to drink before leaving this dimension.

On the other side of the table Stan forced the mouthful of pancakes down and beat himself theatrically over the chest, marking his victory.

"So, Uncle", the younger wiggled his eyebrows, "how about that formal introduction?" he held out a meaty hand towards Ford, index- and middle-finger visibly sticky with syrup. Ford shook his head and threw a napkin at the outstretched hand, not wanting to draw more attention to his abnormal extremity than necessary. Feeling that doing so would expose his true identity to the boy in front of him.

"Axol", he said, as his oblivious brother was in the process of getting more of the napkin stuck to his sticky fingers than getting the syrup transferred to the napkin, "Axol… Lutz".

"You German or something?" the question was polite rather than curious, as Stan was still preoccupied with battling the stubborn syrup.

"Austrian actually", the boy's head shot up, an amazed look in his wide eyes.

"So you have seen like kangaroos and killer sharks and stuff! You're some kind of monster/crocodile/bounty hunter then? That would explain a lot", Ford groaned at his brother's lack of general knowledge.

"Not Australia, Austria, birthplace of Mozart and Freud", Stan's face fell just a little, making it fairly obvious that he didn't clock the examples his breakfast companion was giving him.

"Right…" he said, tossing the shredded remains of the napkin onto the far end of the table.

"Not that I have ever been", the liar continued, "my parents moved to America before the war". He hoped his hasty calculations of Earth's timeline wasn't too far off. A lot had happened – and quite a few new cultures and otherworldly historical events had occurred - since he last studied WWII and the holocaust.

"They were Jewish", he added, something that caught the younger's attention.

"You're Jewish?" a smile Ford had never seen his brother wear in a religious context before decorated his face, "me too!" he exclaimed cheerfully and lifted his imaginary Kippah "Mazel tov!" he grinned and put his chin in his palm, elbow against the table.

"Well, my family is… well, just my ma really", the grin faded a bit, "she came here because of the war as well", he trailed off, not wanting to go into detail. Ford understood, it wasn't a pleasant story. But the boy soon regained his mood and continued.

"But both me and my brother have had our Bar Mitzvah and fair share of Saturdays ruined because of the Shabbat", he laughed and put his hand forward once again, "Shalom, my fellow Jew!"

The boy looked so happy to have met a potential friend that Ford couldn't deny him a second time. He remembered how all they had had as kids and teenagers were each other. No one wanted to be friends with the freak and his dumb brother, so they had become an inseparable duo - well, what they believed to be inseparable.

The freak took the dumb one's hand.

"Shalom Aleichem"

"Stan Pines" Stanley replied and smiled, shaking the other's hand eagerly. Not once giving away to have noticed the extra digit.

They finished their meal, and as the 'Uncle' was about to empty his third cup of coffee he leaned closer to his 'nephew' and asked in a hushed voice:

"So, exactly how does this 'dine and dash' business work?" he was met with the mischievous trademark grin and the boy leaned closer as well.

"Well, it depends… How good are you at climbing out bathroom windows?"

* * *

 **There you have it** **folks! Some stancest bonding. Thank you for reading, and review are as always very welcome. (Ford's name is based on Axolotl, will probably give his train of thought a thorough explanation in future chapters.)**

 **If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for what our precious twins should get up to next, don't hesitate to tell me! Stay awesome dudez 3**


	5. Boy toy

**Wow… alright so this chapter was a pain in the arse to write – pun very much intended – but here it is!**

 **Enjoy**

* * *

Stanford had been in some weird situations during his time - that included collage and Gravity falls, not just the other side of the portal – and this would definitely end up being one of them.

After miraculously escaping the diner and their check they had spent most of the day on the open road. The interdimensional traveller decided to stick by his brother for now (as he was lacking a better plan of action) and his brother seemed glad for the company. By nightfall they had ended up in the outskirts of New York City, their shortage of money still a fact. Stan had told the older man not to worry too much about it the red car had soon been parked outside a shady looking bar. In which Stanford now sat by himself, nursing a glass of lukewarm water.

Stanley had gone to the bathroom about twenty minutes ago, and Ford started to get worried. Six fingers were stressfully drumming against the scratched table top. Just when he had had enough of the exotic music, glaring looks and dim lights and was going to go and see what was taking so long, a broad-shouldered young man with shining dark hair and chest-nut eyes stepped out in the main bar, the bright light from the bathroom illuminating him like a saint. Stan discreetly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand made his way over to the bar. A minute later coming Ford's way with two big pints of beer.

"How…" the scientist began, but not sure to ask: 1 how a minor like Stan managed to purchase alcohol, or 2 where he had gotten the money to purchase the alcohol from, let the question die and clenched his jaw shut.

"Wanna drink to something?" the boy asked as he slid into the booth and pushed one of the glasses towards Ford, a bit of the golden liquid spilling over the edge as the momentum from the push ceased. He decided to go with the former question.

"Aren't you underage?" he asked in a flat voice, taking a handful of napkins from a dispenser and putting them under his glass to soak up the mess.

"I can handle my alcohol", Stan shrugged and gulped down a mouthful of his drink, his Adam's apple visibly bouncing up and down his throat. The older caught himself starring and turned to his own drink, taking an absent-minded sip. The beer was foul. But then again, most alcohol had lost its appeal after drinking Cosmic sand with the Oracle.

"Able to handle it or not, that doesn't answer my question", Ford pushed his drink aside and let his eyes sweep over the people in the bar. He could feel someone observing him and he didn't like it.

"Why do you ask? Is there a _friend_ of yours that wants to know?" a smirk and wiggle of eyebrows was sent his way, not sure why he had done to earn it, but the researcher swore he could see the devil in those dark eyes.

"Beg your pardon?"

Stan just laughed.

"Never mind Old man", he chugged the rest of his beer and slammed the glass down on the wooden table, "you're not gonna drink your?" he nooded towards Fords glass. Ford shook his head.

"I have had worst", he picked the glass up between his thumb and forefinger, "but not by much". He held the pint dripping with condensation out for the other to take, wondering why the hell he was giving his underage brother alcohol?

"Alright Mr High-standards Snobington", Stan blew a raspberry and took the glass from the six-fingered hand, "Why don't you get the next round huh?"

"I would",

 _No, I should not be buying my 17 years old brother alcohol!_

"but I don't have any money, as you are aware. I thought this stop was to get us some?"

"It is", in a way too natural motion the minor down the second beer in one before continuing, "and I am working on it". He dug around in the front pocket of his tight jeans for a second before tossing a bundle of wrinkly dollar bills on the table.

"You get the next round, I'll be back in a sec", he smiled and got back up, a bit wobblier than before, and headed towards the restroom once more. Ford looked after the slightly intoxicated teen and shook his head. He should grab him by the collar and drag him out of here, give him a proper scolding for drinking and convince him to go back home. Stan had been out on the road long enough. It must have been a week since he got thrown out, more than enough time for Ford - the younger Ford - to get his head out of his arse and start to regret turning his back on his brother. Starting to miss him and worry about him. He and ma would make sure that pa allowed Stan to move back home.

He pocketed the money his younger brother mysteriously overcome and had handed him - and stood with the intention of going into the bathroom and drag said brother out of this place. But he didn't get that far.

"Hi there", the unpublished author felt a hand - too low for comfort - on his back and jumped out of reach, turning towards the voice. It belonged to a young man, no more than half his own age.

"Hello", he replied sheepishly, eyeing the man head to toe. He was tall, on the brink of skinny, with thick blond hair and blue eyes. Probably Scandinavian decent.

"I can see your toy left you alone again", he made a fleeting gesture towards the bathroom door.

"My what?" Ford asked, his voice snappier than he intended.

"Your boy", the man corrected himself, laughing at his own mistake. His blue eyes sparkled as they settled on Ford.

"Would you like me to keep you company instead?" Ford knitted his eyebrows and viewed the man with a mix of confusion and discomfort.

"No thank you", he declined and turned to the bathroom to get his brother.

"What? Am I too old for you?"

"Excuse me?" he stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around. The taller man shrugged, one hand on his hip.

"Just wondering. I mean that boy toy of yours is what, ten years younger than me?" At that moment Ford was glad he had left his gun in the car. If he hadn't, the impudent blond would have a smoking hole between his eyes. Instead, he got away with a bloody - and possibly broken - nose.

* * *

 **Sorry for kind of ending in the middle of things but I want to keep the chapters at the same lenght. Don't worry though, next chapter will be up soon ;)**

 **Thank you so much for reading :D and a review of your thougths would be the most precious thing! 3**

 **Just clearing up the ages (if someone is struggling to keep on top of the maths): at this point in time Ford has spent 20 years in the portal, so he is around 50 years old, Stanley is 17 and the blond douche bag is in his mid-twenties.**


	6. Fucking Christ

**Thank you so much Ciycat and dm4487 for reviewing! You guys are the real MVPs 3**

 **I'm not particularly skilled when it comes to writing sex scenes (I'm a shy lil' bean, please respect that), so bear with me and my vague descriptions and innuendoes. But hey, that means it is up to your imagination to have it as dirty/vanilla you like**

 **Here is chapter 6, and as always I hope you will enjoy it :***

* * *

 _Thank God for alcohol_

Stan wasn't a chronic drinker, but at times like these having his senses dulled by drunkenness made things so much easier. A _working guy_ with strong gaging reflexes wasn't ideal, but the two beers and the additional shot he had had at the bar had done their job; allowing him to go down, to get his finances up.

The stranger above him let out an animalistic growl and Stan brazed himself, holding tight to the back of the man's chubby thighs. Salty bitterness spluttered the back of the boy's throat and after a long few seconds the firm hand that had held onto his combed back hair let go (and made a half-hearted attempt to pat it back to its original style). Stan pulled away and got back up on his feet, once again taller than the man in front of him. He fired off half a grin. The man nervously returned the smile, payed Stan for his services and hurried out of the bathroom with a quick and awkward _'thanks'_.

It was easier to ignoring the musky taste of manhood on his tongue with money in hand, but he spate twice into the corner of the stall anyway. He stepped out of the booth and over to the sink, to wash his face (and mouth) and get his hair back in order. It wasn't easy without the massive amount of hair gel he usually used, but he didn't have the luxury of hair gel, as of recent events.

The cold water was refreshing after having his face repeatedly forced against a moist and furry stomach. He did his best to rub the memory off of his skin and out of his mind. It wasn't an activity he necessarily enjoyed; but it payed - and with his none existing work experience and dire need of cash - he couldn't afford to be picky with work. He had to do what he had to do to survive. Even if it robbed him of his dignity.

Wet palms pulled at his hair, forcing it flat against his skull. He didn't know why he bothered, without the hair gel it would fluff right back up as soon as it dried, making him look like a stupid copy of his stupid brother.

 _His Sixer…_

He pushed those thoughts away and pulled an exaggerated amount of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall. Violently beating his face dry before tossing them in the direction of the bin. Wiping his hands on his jeans out of habit.

The bar was still full of people - potential customers – as he stepped out of the bathrrom. Stan had been a handful of places like this in the past, so he knew the general scheme of things. No one opened a bar with the intention of it becoming an epicentre for prostitutes, but if it brought paying costumers most barkeepers turned a blind eye. As long as the floozies kept their business discrete that was.

Unable to find Axol in the blurry puddle of faces he walked up to the bar. The middle-aged lady behind the counter gave him a smile as he hoped up on one of the stools. She was cute, even though she probably was the same age as his Ma. He gave her a wide smile and politely asked for a glass of water.

A heavy body sat down on the stool next to him. For a second, the boy thought it was Axol, but the lack of hair soon told him otherwise.

"You walk the streets around here?" the man asked, and Stan had to bite his lip to stop a snorting laugh escaping him. Who used code like that?

 _If you want a fuck just grab an arse and say so._

His chest vibrated with the contained chuckle and said with a shaky breath: "Sure do", the reply was way too up beat, but the boy couldn't help it.

The bartender came back with his water. She eyed the bald man beside him and gently squeezed Stan's hand as she placed the glass in front of him. Oblivious to her worry he smiled at her and took a grateful gulp of the water.

"What is the status of the backdoor?"

 _Holy fucking Christ above! Was this guy for real?_

Stan swallowed another mouthful of water, and the laugh threatening to burst out of him down with it.

"Well", he sat the glass down and swirled half a turn on his stool, leaning his back and elbows against the bar, "there is an entrance fee, and a hell of a lot easier to get in if you offer to buy the owner of the place a drink first". The guy gave him a look and Stan just shrugged.

"Or that is what I have heard at least", he honestly wasn't too keen on _open up_ the backdoor. He had only done it once before and it had left him sore for weeks. But it paid, and he needed the money.

"Fine".

Next thing he knew he had a large glass of cheap whiskey in his hands. It burned his throat and insides as he downed it, leaving a distinct aftertaste of smoke and hairspray. An improvement to the previous taste of cock.

"Do you have a place?" if he was gonna open his backdoor he sure as hell wasn't gonna do it in a bathroom stall. The costumer but his glass down on the counter - with more force than necessary - and turned to face him.

"Out back good enough for you?"

Stan rolled his eyes at the pun – at least his drunken brain thought it was a pun – and nodded his head in the general direction of the door. The guy got up from his seat and Stan pretty much fell from his, somehow managing to land on his feet. His head was spinning like crazy. Not that he was a lightweight or anything (he was in the Super Middleweight Class for crying out loud) but drinking on an empty stomach wasn't ideal.

Leaning heavily on the unfamiliar form that had paid for his last drink, they made their way out of the bar. Had the amateur boxer been less drunk the idea of following a complete stranger into a dark alleyway would probably have seemed like a pretty dumb thing to do, but drunkards weren't usually known for their good judgment. So, the pair ended up behind the bar. Surrounded by filthy bins, empty cardboard boxes and soaked newspapers Stan could feel himself getting pushed up against a large waste container. The metal was cold and greasy under his touch, and the smell almost had him heave the content of his empty stomach all over the plastic lid.

Hasty hands unbuckled his belt and pushed his jeans down. The chilled night air made his exposed and skin explode as warm hand eagerly roamed over it. A faint few sparks of pleasure shot up his spine and Stan wished the man would go more slowly; but knew that he didn't really had a say if he wanted to get paid.

He brazed himself and tried to relax. He was gonna have some serious trouble driving his car tomorrow.

* * *

 **Hey look! A chapter that doesn't consist purely of dialogue. Neat.**

 **Seriously though… Do you guys think the chapters are too short? Please tell me if you do and I will do my best to fix it. I want to improve my writing after all ^u^**

 **Stay awesome dudes!**


	7. Up-chuck

**Wrote this during a lecture about Modernism and historical avant garde – on two hours of sleep and a huge (but still too small) cup of sweet coffee - I really need to get my life under control…**

 **Please enjoy ^3^**

The night was cold. If the scientist's post-wormhole calculations where right he had ended up on this alternative Earth in late March 1972. A quick thought of what else – except the obvious 30-year delay – could differ from his own dimension crossed his mind. In the mere 22 hours he had been here no mayor differences had caught his attention, but that didn't mean there where none. He had to be careful. The few encounters explorer had had with other travellers of the multiverse had taught him the dangers of an ordeal such as this.

Pain brought him back to the present and Stanford massaged his aching hand. He was used to fist fights by now, but the sudden impact had still hurt (probably nothing compared to the guy whose face had been the supplier of the impact, but the scientist couldn't give less of a godforsaken damn about him). He flexed the six fingers of his right-hand couple of times, making sure he hadn't damaged or broken anything. It seemed to function as expected, so he left it be and buried it deep in his coat pocket.

For what felt like the fortieth time he glanced in the direction of the bar's main entrance. Stanley should have noticed that he was gone – been thrown out - by now and come looking for him. Ford had half a mind to barge into the bar in a second attempt to drag his brother out of there; but decided against it. The bar keeper had threatened to call the police if he ever showed his face in there again; and a quarrel with the local authorities was best avoided considering that the identity of Stanford Pines belonged to a 17-year-old high school student, not a man in his fifties.

The streetlight flickered and died, leaving the lonely street dweller in darkness.

Seeing no point in standing around in the obscure Ford began walking - and found himself automatically heading in the direction of the Stanley Mobile. The bar had more than one exit, but however Stan choose to get out of there he would most certainly end up by his car; or so the older twin hoped. If there where anymore perky phonies like the one Ford had encountered only God knows what could happen to him.

His determined stride took him past the bar, around a corner and off the main street. Not that it changed the scenery much. The smaller street was just as dark and shady as the last one, guarded by just as none-functioning lampposts.

Passing one of the many - and highly identical - side alleys the scientist froze as he heard a muffled sound of unidentifiable origin. Whatever it was surely wasn't his business, but that didn't stop the memories of unpleasant backstreet encounters from flooding his mind. The range went all the way from mediocre high school harassers to evil entities, all whom still had him wake in cold sweat every other night.

He stopped. Maybe it wasn't his business, just as his troubles through the years - with bullies and brutes – hadn't been anyone's business; but that didn't stop strangers (, twinbrothers) and soon-to-be allies to come to his aid. It couldn't hurt to take a look. If it was a stray cat it was a stray cat and if it indeed was someone in need of assistance, then he would do what he could to help. He wasn't the timid teenager freak in need of his brother's protection anymore. He was a grown man, a leader of rebellions, saviour of civilizations, holder of twelve PhDs, former king of the finger dimension and a first-class anomaly researcher – he could handle a possible back-alley brawl.

He turned back and around the brick wall corner – his stride steadfast – and walked straight into a firm form. Well-trimmed reflexes kicked in and before he knew it the form had doubled over in pain from his defensive manoeuvre; spewing vomit all over Ford's high-shafted boots.

"Uuugh-ouuch…" the pitiful voice was a familiar one, so was the sight of a head full of floppy brown hair, broad muscular shoulders and…

"Stanley?"

"ummh", the boy was swaying uncontrollably, clearly heavily intoxicated.

"Oh my god, Stanley. I am so sorry!" he reached out to steady his brother, who looked seconds away from kissing the tarmac goodnight (doing his best to ignore the anxiety oozing memories of the last time those words had travelled over his lips).

"Are you alright? What are you doing out here? I thought you were still at the bar?" the questions passed unanswered as the Ford steadied the younger and slowly helped him sit down against the alley wall, careful to not seat him in the puddle of his own disgorged innards.

From what little he could distinguish in the lack of light, Stan didn't seem to be injured (aside from the blow Ford himself had given him, but trivialities such as that wasn't of importance right now). The none-medical doctorate cupped his brothers well-defined chin in his palm, tilting Stan's head back and searched the droopy eyes for any sign of a head trauma.

He didn't get to search very long though.

Warm hands placed themselves on either side of the man's stubble coated face, making his glasses sit awry atop his large nose. Ford blinked in surprise and instinctively tried to pull away, but Stan's grip was firm, regardless of his drunken state.

"What are you…?" Ford let go of his brothers chin and placed his hands over his strong wrists in an attempt to get the hands off of him. But to no avail.

"Yo-ugh're cute with your face's all frowny", Stan smiled and let his thumbs brush over the older man's sideburns. Ford could feel his face grow hot under his twin's touch. His heart beat at an unhealthy pace at the sight of those drunkenly blushed cheeks, suddenly not so eager to pull away anymore.

"makes'ya loo-ook lik-a grumpy owl" he chuckled at his observation and the natural motion of laughter had him lean forward and bump his flushed forehead against Ford's.

The boy smelled of sea and sweat and smoky whiskey; along with a horrendous odour of vomit (not that the weary traveller smelled much better). They froze like that, and for a moment Ford struggled to remember how to operate his lungs.

But the moment couldn't last forever (well it could, but not in this dimension, probably?), and it ended abruptly with a guttural choking noise and a new cascade of sick. Ford staggered backwards just in time to avoid getting covered in his brother's stomach content a second time, the hasty motion having him fall flat on his butt. He adjusted his wonky glasses and viewed the pitiful sight in front of him.

Homeless, penniless, drunk and covered in his own vomit. If this was how Stan had begun his life away from home Ford deemed it no less than a bloody miracle that he had made it through those ten years until they had next seen one another.

The image of the very last he had seen of his – _his_ – brother and his own dimension popped up into his mind. A decade of resents, abandonment, blame and guilt, burning flesh. After everything Stanford had put his brother through the look on Stan's face as his twin brother was sucked into the portal hadn't been hatred. It hadn't been malice or even anger. It had been pure and utter despair. Like everything he had ever cared for, ever loved and cherished had been taken away from him…

The scientist got back up on his feet.

He needed to focus. He needed to get Stanley off the streets and somewhere safe. Preferably a somewhere with a shower and a warm bed (something he too could do with) but for now the Stanley Mobile would have to suffice.

His brother lulled his head back and forth, muttering something incohesivly.

 _Right_

"Come on you", Ford grabbed hold of the beefy arms resting in his brother lap and hauled him up on his feet (hopping that the sudden motion wouldn't trigger another spewing-session). The heavy body went limp in his arms and Ford nearly dropped him.

"Jesus Stanley", he rearranged his grip and managed to get one of Stan's slack arms around his shoulders, making it easier to prompt him up in a standing position, "by God you are solid!"

"God sold… me… wha?" Stan slurred and looked at the man keeping him standing with a muddled face. Ford rolled his eyes.

"Never mind. Just shut up and focus on walki", he got interrupted.

"Shut up? More like chuck, up", Stan burst out laughing at the dumb pun and Ford was going to roll his eyes a second time when the arm behind his neck violently pulled him downwards as its owner doubled over, splashing their shoes and the ground beneath them in a new colour.

" **".

 **Pffffffff. You guys thought I was going to have Ford find Stan in the middle of work didn't you!? Well, no. That is a secret Stan is getting to keep a bit longer, it has only been 22 hours after all.**

 ***common swear in the Universal Alien Tongue**

 ****Slightly less common curse in UAT**

 **Stay awesome!**


End file.
